


Bite Me

by NancyBrown



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Celebratory Kiss, Community: trope_bingo, Crack, F/M, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 01:31:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NancyBrown/pseuds/NancyBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen is turned into a vampire. Because Torchwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite Me

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: crack, mostly temporary character death (including death by fire)  
> Spoilers: set after "Something Borrowed" but goes AU like whoa before "Exit Wounds"  
> Beta: Tymewyse did a very fast turnaround and has my thanks.  
> AN: I do what I want. Fills trope bingo square: celebratory kiss

One of these days, Gwen thought, she really would have to learn to wait for backup.

The alien had already killed two people, and that sort of thing always got up her nose. The team had stuttered into action at reports of another sighting, and they'd managed to scare it off its latest victim. Owen got busy with desperately putting the bleeding woman back together, and Jack was distracted with containing the situation with the bystanders. Gwen took off after the creature like a terrier before the others could even react.

Well behind her, Jack had finally taken to his heels, bellowing into his earpiece for Tosh and Ianto to drop the project they'd stayed behind to finish and get here _now_ to deal with the witnesses. Gwen could hear the orders, and the agreements, in her own ear, herself too out of breath from her mad dash to acknowledge. She ought to drop her pace and let Jack catch up, but there the alien was, just ahead of her and rounding a corner. She found another burst of speed from somewhere deep inside.

Gwen skidded into a blind alley, almost tripping over the uneven pavement and scattered rubbish littering the ground. The creature had already turned, a wall at its back and blood dripping wetly down its gruesome chin.

The monster bared its fangs and leapt before her gun was up.

Backup would have been a fantastic idea.

***

The victim, some terrified woman who clutched Owen's jacket like he was keeping her afloat, drifted into unconsciousness as the sedative took effect. Until one of the others got back, he would do the best he could with one broken hand, cleaning out the twin jagged puncture wounds on her neck before he could stick a plaster over.

"It's going to be fine," he lied through his teeth into her groggy ear. "Just you wait." Her head lolled, and he brushed her hair out of his way, swearing when it caught in her dangling earrings. Some people made it very difficult to save their fucking lives.

So intent on his work, he didn't even hear Jack's thick, slow footsteps coming back until Jack stood beside him, tears streaming down his face and Gwen's bloody body cradled in his arms.

***

No matter how many times Toshiko saw a team member die – first Howard, then Suzie, then Jack (who got better), and Owen (ditto), now Gwen – the raw pain shooting through her remained the same. She lingered at the rail overlooking the autopsy bay, as Owen lay out Gwen's still corpse on the slab, ready to disrobe her poor, cooling body in order to dig inside. Gwen had been a friend, and it wasn't fair. It was never fair.

Ianto had turned away, hands shoved in his pockets, focusing on the array of instruments around them. He mourned on the inside, not allowing a soul to see. Jack, who kept his secrets hidden on everything else, wore his own grief like another coat: thick and clinging, face crumpled in sorrow as he stood back to let Owen work. Owen himself would rage later. She'd heard his miserable swearing in her ear before they'd arrived on the scene, and with no alcohol or sex to drown his pain, he'd turn back to screaming after this wretched task was complete.

Owen began to unbutton Gwen's shirt. Tosh felt the sob catch in her throat.

When Gwen's eyes popped open, Tosh jumped. The monitors around them sprang to life, indicating brain activity.

"Owen, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Gwen demanded, jerking upright and clutching her blouse close as she fixed him with a glare that was both horrified and cross.

"Gwen?"

***

"I'm a bloody vampire?" Gwen kept poking at the new fangs she'd developed in the course of her brief death: a bit sharp, definitely large. More prodding suggested the extra teeth had performed what three childhood dentists had insisted to her Mam that normal growth would accomplish, no need for those expensive braces, Mrs. Cooper. Now Gwen was dead, and in her demise she was the proud possessor of sharp vampire teeth, perfectly straight. Her Gran would have said to appreciate the silver lining. Gwen just wanted a drink.

Jack said, "You're not exactly a vampire. The Nosfers were the basis for a lot of vampire myths, but think more extraterrestrial, less bargains with Satan."

Owen read off his diagnostics with what Gwen thought to be a little too much glee. "Your red blood cell count is a mess. Cellular mitosis is in ranges I've only seen before when I was examining Jack."

Gwen fixed him with an intentionally blank stare until Owen relented. "Your body is healing your injuries," he gestured to the missing wounds on her neck, "but it just stopped your ageing process cold."

"Bloody hell, I'm immortal?" She grinned at Jack, who raised his eyebrows.

"Don't get too excited. You don't age, but if you're not careful, you can be killed. I had to lop the head off the one that bit you, and it's not coming back any time soon."

Gwen scratched at her neck sympathetically, which brought her wedding ring into view. "Christ, what's Rhys going to say?"

Owen said, "Tenner says he rants and blames Jack."

"I'll see that bet," Toshiko said, fetching her handbag. "He's hardly blamed Jack for anything for weeks."

"You're actually gambling on this?" Gwen asked, as both notes were handed over to Ianto, who stuffed the pot into a pocket for safe-keeping.

"Look at it this way," he said, "none of us are screaming and running for stakes and garlic. That reminds me, what should I get in for lunch?"

The mere mention of garlic curdled her stomach. "I could go for a blood pudding." Her mouth watered. "Really."

Owen had the whiff of death all over him, but Toshiko's neck was close by, bare and pink with life.

***

Ianto opened the grating for the food tray to the cell.

"I'm sorry!" Gwen said for the fifth time.

"Nobody blames you," he said reassuringly. "Jack says it's just a precaution." She couldn't help but wonder if he'd added the 'Jack says' part to placate her. He certainly didn't come close enough to touch, and his tie seemed to be fitted more securely around his neck than normal.

"Is Toshiko all right?"

"She's fine. Really. Bit shaken up, but fine. You didn't break the skin."

"Thank God."

Gwen poked at her food. No garlic, no onions, no leeks, nothing of the common _allium_ family. She was peculiarly grateful. Holy water wouldn't be an issue, not with the last time she'd set foot in a church being her cousin Melva's wedding. "Did Owen say anything about the sunlight?" She bit into her very boring sandwich, trying not to look at Ianto's neck as he waited for her tray.

"Nothing good. That poor woman you saved from the space vampire apparently lit up like a torch earlier today when the clouds broke."

Gwen made a face. Sunbathing was out. "Poor dear. What about moonlight, then? It's traditional and all, but isn't it just reflected sunlight?"

He shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. When you've finished your lunch, Owen's got a half dozen guinea pigs he'd like you to bite so he can run experiments."

"Fantastic."

***

"You're a what?"

Toshiko won the betting pool, but only just. Rhys blamed bloody Torchwood instead of bloody Jack. He also kept shooting glances to the handcuff keeping Gwen attached to the medical slab as Owen went over his initial experiments with the guinea pigs.

Ianto watched from the sidelines, noting the disbelief on Rhys's face. It had to be rough adjusting to the various ways Torchwood had interfered with what he'd hoped would be an otherwise typical marriage. Ianto added an extra couple of biscuits to his tray before bringing the refreshments down to the rest. Gwen had often commented that sugar helped Rhys cope with life's little bumps and bruises; perhaps a chocolate-coated treat would soothe the smart of finding out his wife was now an undead creature of the night and whatnot.

"Here," he said, handing Gwen the mug he'd specially prepared with thick cocoa. "Try this."

One hand stuck to the slab, Gwen gingerly took her mug in the other and raised it to her lips, clearly noticing how the rest stared at her as she drank. "Thanks." After two sips, her wary expression turned to glee. "That's fantastic, Ianto." She drained the mug. "What is it?"

Owen coughed, God knew why. Not like he had any more of an airway needing cleared than Gwen did. "Given my tests, and scaling up to human-sized, you can probably get by with about five to ten cc's of blood consumption per day, depending on your activity level. That was three cc's."

Ianto said with a hint of a smirk, "The trick is to stir it in just after the chocolate has had a chance to cool enough to keep the blood from clotting." Toshiko made a face, playing with the edge of the fashionable scarf she'd wrapped demurely around her neck.

Jack said, "He's been practising for two hours."

"Fortunately the local butcher doesn't blink at unusual orders from our account."

Rhys ignored them. "So, what's it all, then? I mean, can you turn into a bat?"

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Owen, but Gwen said at the same time, thoughtfully, "I haven't tried yet."

She screwed up her face in concentration, looking less like someone working out a magic spell and more like she had to use the toilet.

The handcuff chain rattled empty, as the air made a soft ~pop~ from the sudden change in air pressure. Gwen's mug hit the floor and shattered. A very tiny brown bat hovered with her ungainly first attempt at flight above the pile of abandoned clothes on the table. Tosh covered her mouth in shock. Everyone else took several steps back.

With something that could only be described as glee, Gwen got her bearings and zipped three times around the medical bay as the others ducked out of her way, then she zoomed up the stairs. Jack glared at Rhys. "Had to tell her she could fly?" He dashed up the stairs after her, Rhys behind him, huffing his way up. Owen and Ianto exchanged glances and followed at a saner pace. The pterodactyl was out, Ianto recalled, so Gwen wouldn't be eaten.

As he reached the main Hub, there was a noise, kind of like an inverted slurp, and he walked in just in time to see Gwen change back to human form with a delighted grin on her face.

This quickly turned to annoyance.

"Can someone please fetch my clothes?"

***

Jack rubbed his forehead to prod at the headache he'd developed. This being Torchwood, they had a pamphlet in the files entitled, "Life As the Undead: Coping With Your New Condition." Ianto had found it after Owen's return, and he'd even updated the document with handy references in case they encountered another Resurrection Gauntlet or similar. Out in the work area, Jack could just see him at one of the terminals busily adding information (with handy clip art illustrations) for any future employees who found themselves in Gwen's shoes.

Jack sighed again.

Gwen was adjusting to her blood-sucking immortality with admirable grace and speed. She had easily slipped into taking all the night watches, and coaxed Rhys into switching his schedule at Harwood's to match. He'd apparently installed those good light-blocking curtains at home, effectively rendering their flat a happy, dark little cave. Gwen had gone off and had a cry yesterday when she'd processed that vampirism meant she wasn't going to have kids ever, but even that bit of angst had passed once she'd gone out for a flight and taken down a Blowfish with what turned out to be rather useful superhuman strength.

Gwen was going to be all right.

But the paperwork was a nightmare. Technically, his second-in-command was now part alien, and that meant the Home Office and UNIT were both trying to crawl up Jack's arse, and not in the fun way. He'd get it sorted, just as he'd finally got Owen's status sorted, but honestly, the process was a pain.

There was a tap on his door. "Busy?"

Jack hadn't even seen Ianto leave his work area. "Just arguing with the higher-ups. As it turns out, they're already cross that my pay packet is a permanent thing, and Owen's too, and now I've told them they've got yet another immortal employee. Mr. Weeds is trying to argue that since Gwen and Owen are technically dead, they shouldn't be paid."

Ianto sat on the edge of the desk. Jack knew this was the least comfortable seat in his office, even less comfortable when the desk's edge was digging into his thighs as they made use of the horizontal surface. On the other hand, he did fancy the visual of a handsome young man perched beside him, neck bent and eyes gleaming with amusement, his attention focused squarely on Jack. A little discomfort was nothing compared to that view, and to the knowledge crackling between them of what came next, which was probably why Ianto never minded sitting there.

"And how are you holding up?" Ianto asked him, placing his hand on the desk next to Jack's without touching. The warmth radiating from his skin sent shivers up the hairs on Jack's arm.

Jack considered an innuendo on the word 'up' but read Ianto's expression and decided against it. "What do you mean?"

"You're not alone any longer. Owen's afterlife appears to be linked to yours. Unless he damages himself again, he could go on for centuries. Gwen's completely immortal, barring run-ins with fenceposts or sunlight, and this is Cardiff, so the sunlight isn't likely." He made a joke of it, though Jack could hear the tone behind the words. "Especially not with the new curtains. Rhys is incredibly proud of himself for hanging those, you know."

Jack knew, and even if he hadn't, Gwen's amused description of her husband's puffed up chest at his 'carpentry' would have tipped him off. "She and Rhys have to work things out on their own. She has to live with the fact that he'll grow old while she never will. He has to watch her stay the same every day for the rest of his life, knowing she'll outlive him by thousands of years, even millions."

"And you?"

"I'm their friend. I can tell them how I got through it when I first realised what was going on."

Ianto chewed on his bottom lip in a way Jack found very distracting. "Jack, Gwen is immortal now. You know what that means."

Jack closed the space between their hands, resting his atop Ianto's and giving a quick squeeze. The question of 'holding up' hadn't been for Jack at all. He was looking for reassurance. "This doesn't change anything," Jack said. "Nothing important." He squeezed Ianto's hand again, then pulled him in for a kiss. "Okay?"

"Okay." He didn't sound convinced. 

Jack glanced out to the Hub through his blinds, but the others were elsewhere. The desk _was_ uncomfortable, but he thought he might make a convincing case on it yet.

***

Gwen growled as she brushed her hair. "Stupid bloody laws of physics," she moaned, catching another knot.

Rhys chortled from the kitchen, where he'd put the spag bol on the counter to rest. "Don't be so upset, love."

"Light bends around me! How does that even work? It's just a stupid mirror, but it's blank!" She waved her hand despondently across the glass, and only saw the other side of the bathroom reflected back at her. The pamphlet on undeath had been less than useful. Gwen had reread the bit about " _bathing in the blood of virgins_ " until " _but only hot ones_ " clued her in that Owen had been messing about with Ianto's document files again.

"Ah, but on the plus side, you can turn into a wee little bat and not worry about weighing as much as a full-grown woman. Physics is optional, yeah?"

"That's true." Gwen didn't like admitting he was right, but she was enjoying some of the weirder benefits of her new condition. She could bend people to her will by just staring them in the face and talking to them, and sometimes she could read their minds. (It turned out every person she'd even known was completely disgusting. Mind-reading was naff, Tosh agreed.) She had a million new senses, too, and could smell things from far off, which also was naff, living this close to so many fish in the Bay.

Poor Toshiko was taking all Gwen's violations of natural law as a personal affront, desperate to discover where all the extra mass went whilst she was in bat mode, and why the mirrors didn't work, and why poor Mr. Buttons dissolved when Owen spritzed him with water Ianto nicked from the holy font at St. Patrick's.

Giving up on her hair, Gwen went into her wardrobe and began to pull out shirts, blouses, and dresses. Instinct told her that plunging necklines and heaving cleavage were definitely the way to go, with an emphasis on black. She was a mess with needle and thread, but she thought she could talk Ianto into giving her the name of the good dry cleaner where he got Jack's clothes altered, and she couldn't imagine Jack objecting to her new style. He might even declare it Torchwood's new dress code.

Rhys began dishing out their food, stirring a wee spoonful of spices into his portion, and a wee spoonful of something that wasn't tomato paste into hers. "Have you called your mam to tell her we won't be joining her for that visit to the beach after all?"

"Not yet. I was considering getting a new bikini," black for preference, "and we could take a midnight swim instead." On second thought, forget the bikini. Her husband's thoughts were very clear on skipping the bikini, and she had to agree his plan was better. "What do you think?"

He grinned.

***

Fucking Weevils fucking ruining her holiday plans even worse than her sudden undeath had. Gwen cursed inwardly as she flapped her little wings, trying to keep up with the sewer-dwelling annoyance that had made her cancel her weekend away. Behind her Ianto dashed to keep up, ready with the Weevil spray. Gwen banked sharply around a corner.

She smacked into the windscreen of a blue 2005 Vectra, scaring the driver half out of his wits. Woozy, she careened unsteadily into a light post before she slid to the ground.

If she could make words, she'd have said, "Ow." Instead, she let out a little squeak. Her senses had been confused by the blow, but she thought she heard Ianto keep pace with the Weevil. She'd catch her breath and then follow, secure in the knowledge he carried a small shoulder bag with a quick change of clothes for her. A thin, light shift wasn't much, but it saved embarrassing questions.

She heard a scream that cut off quickly. Without even thinking about it, Gwen switched back to human. She ignored the sudden gasps at her naked appearance, speeding barefoot to the alleyway where Ianto had chased the Weevil.

The Weevil was down, clutching its face against the spray. Ianto's breaths came in short gasps, his chest raked open and bleeding freely. His hand was at his earpiece but he couldn't form words to speak to the mic.

"Oh God," Gwen said, crouching beside him, tearing through the bag for her flimsy dress to use as an emergency stanch for his wounds. "Ianto, stay awake." Her own earpiece was long gone. She yanked his. "Ianto's down, send help!"

His breaths went shallow. "Come on, pet, don't die on me now." She pressed harder, praying the others would get there soon. God alone knew what Owen would do, though. Ianto was a mess.

"Gwen, bite me." It was barely a whisper.

She didn't understand at first. Then her eyes went wide. "No. Sweetheart, you don't want this." Unwanted tears prickled her eyes painfully. Ianto was dying. He would be dead before Owen arrived, before Jack did.

Ianto shook his head. With an effort, eyes closing, he said, "Only way. Please, Gwen." The 'please' burned her.

His breathing stopped.

His tie was tight, but not tight enough, and his blood was rich and thick as cocoa.

***

"This is mad," Jack said, though the hint of laughter in his voice suggested he could get used to this particular madness. He wore a smile, but it was the smile of a man at a funeral.

Owen chided Gwen as he examined Ianto. "What were you thinking? We hardly know what the effects are on you. Now we've got _two_ bloodsucking vampires running about."

"Says the zombie," Gwen replied. "I told you, he asked me to."

"I did," said Ianto, rubbing the spot on his neck where the bite marks had already healed. "I'll take blood puddings and late nights over being dead any day."

"Is that a joke about me?" Owen asked, shutting down his instruments after finding nothing different from when Gwen was sitting here.

Toshiko said, "I'm sure he could come up with a much better joke than that." Her scarf was back, Ianto noticed. Perhaps he'd buy her a set as a gift. Tosh frowned. "I'm the last one on the team who's still completely human. That's bizarre."

"We've got artefacts downstairs that could change you," Ianto said.

"I could bite you," Gwen offered.

"Thanks, no," Tosh said. With a friendly squeeze of Ianto's arm, she went back up to her workstation. One quick glance over her shoulder, and a tilt of her head, and suddenly Owen and Gwen found excuses to join her elsewhere.

When they were alone, Ianto began putting his tie back on, focusing on the feel of the silk slithering in his hands. His heightened senses promised whole new avenues of sensation once he got his bearings. He was half-hard with just the thought of this luxurious material binding his wrists, of a light breath whispered across the skin of his belly. His sex life, already mind-blowing, was going to reach new levels of erotic exploration, assuming he wasn't ten seconds from getting dumped.

"I think black is going to be a major part of my tailoring. Something in a red satin-lined cape?"

Jack didn't speak, just traced his finger over the silky end of the tie. Ianto filled the empty silence. "Flying looks interesting, but I'll probably stick to stalking around evilly and mesmerising my unsuspecting minions, bending them to my will sort of thing. Besides, I doubt showing up in the nude randomly would win me any new friends."

Still nothing, even with a blatantly obvious set-up. Ianto sighed. "Are you angry with me?"

Jack's finger stopped tracing the tie and drew a sigil over the cloth of Ianto's sleeve. "Did you do it on purpose?"

"What, get eviscerated by a Weevil?" His chest was still tender, the knitting flesh taking a while to become whole again. "No, I didn't plan any of it. I just didn't want to die." He'd lain there in his own blood, and he'd considered very quickly that he didn't much enjoy going out in the sun, that he could get by without a mirror, that he couldn't bear the thought of leaving Jack alone. All of this had gone through his head as Gwen, buck naked, had pulled her dress from his bag to try to save him. He hadn't planned; he'd merely reacted. "Tell me you're not unhappy that I'm alive. Well," he amended, "sort of alive."

"Never would be." Jack stroked his arm. "I'm just catching up. I'm not supposed to be happy that you're about to go through the same hell I did." His smile stayed sad, but hope warmed his voice. "Forgive me?"

"For?"

"Like I said, for being happy about it."

Ianto didn't answer. Instead, he dragged Jack into a kiss that promised everything he had ahead of him, eternity-wise, and everything else he'd think of later.

***  
The End  
***


End file.
